


Caraphernelia

by WednesdayAngeline



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: F/F, alcoholism tw, suicide TW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-07 23:02:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6828691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WednesdayAngeline/pseuds/WednesdayAngeline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title from a Pierce the Veil song, I wrote this cis-girl fic on a whim. They're both twentysomethings out of university and living together. Trigger warnings for suicide and alcoholism apply. 800 words, don't get your hopes up, sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caraphernelia

Katya wants to die.

The bottle of vodka Trixie left looks increasingly tempting, but she can’t bring herself to move, and the remains of her common sense tells her that ten in the morning is too early to indulge herself in an addiction she worked so hard to quit.

She left silent. In the five hours that Katya slept, she was gone. Blonde curls, flannel shirts, love and all.

Without her, the apartment is cold. Empty. Katya is small, insignificant, hollow, nothing. Negative space, almost, a black hole sucking the happiness and good out of everything. Katya wants to scream, but numbness and fatigue overcomes her too quickly too strong.

The loneliness hits her out of nowhere, because the apartment was still so obviously for two people. Two seats at the dining table – one with a red cushion, the hammer and sickle embroidery marking it Katya’s, and the other pink with a lace edging. The two pink dresses in the laundry, a pair of jean shorts that Katya would never wear unless she had fishnets on.

There is the constant dilemma – _do I keep her and try to remember as much of her as possible until memories inadvertently slip away, or do I erase every trace of her? Should I hold out hope that she would come back?_

Katya puts away the alcohol. She would deal with everything later. For now, she calls in sick, and cries herself to sleep, ignoring the blinding sunlight that danced on her sheets.

\--

Katya hides the pink dresses at the bottom of a drawer. Everything pink is taken down, replaced with black. She trades her vibrant wardrobe for monochromatic blacks, whites and greys, grieving the loss of joy. All the toiletries and belongings the other girl left behind are put in a box under the bed, never to see the light of day again.

Pictures of Trixie on old Facebook memories pop up like the unwanted distant relative at Christmastime. And at these times Katya would be reminded that she started it, the fight, the breakup, her own downfall.

She chases the thoughts away with another bottle.

The days pass in a blur of alcohol, microwaved dinners, Netflix, sad Russian music and more alcohol. Her bank account was quickly running out of money- what she has left would last her a year at the rate she’s spending it.

\--

Fame calls a lot, the world-famous model still in touch with her best friend from grade school. Katya lets most of them go to voicemail, because she prefers to mope in misery. “You can’t go on like this, Katya.” _Yes, I can. Self-destruction is my forte, Fame._

“Sweetheart, do you need to check yourself into rehab?” _No. Trixie is what I need, not rehab. But she hates, hates, hates me and it’s all my fault._

“Max called. She hasn’t seen you at work for two months and she wants to visit. ” _I’m not in a state to see anyone, especially anyone from the library. Max would be ashamed of me._

Kennedy calls too, once or twice. “Kat, let me visit you.”

“How is Trixie?”

“Katya, Fame told me you’ve been drinking. Let me visit you, I can get time off work and you need someone to take care of you.”

“How is Trixie?”

“Kat- she’s fine. She picked up a bartending job in Chicago and she’s living at Kim’s.” Katya can hear the other woman’s sighing. “It’s been six months, Kat.”

“Thanks, Kennedy. I’ll be fine.” _I’ll just waste away._ _I’m so, so sorry, Kennedy._

Katya hangs up before she could hear anymore of Kennedy’s pleas. Every call from her friends ate away at her conscience, but she was too ashamed of herself and too deep in self-destruction to allow anyone near her. She hates feeling weak, like a child.

\--

On an ordinary night where Katya stirs awake from another alcohol-induced stupor, she makes the abrupt decision to scroll through Trixie’s social media. _Why not torture myself, I’m only half-living anymore, anyway._

Seeing the blonde girl- _her ex_ \- smiling in photos nearly killed her. It was like breaking her heart a million times all over again. She doesn’t want to believe that Trix had moved on so easily. _But of course she would have, like any other normal, rational, functioning being. You’re stupid, Katya, you’re useless, that’s why nobody could put up with you, least of all Trixie. Be happy because she’s happy now, because she’s not with you anymore._  

That night, she makes plans. _A week from now. No one would notice or care enough._

\--

It was a release when she fell from the balcony, a dull thud when she hit the ground, and nothing more.

Katya left the world like Trixie left her. Quiet and sudden. She left no note or explanation, leaving everything for someone else to break their hearts over.

 


End file.
